Flannery hangs her head in defeat as she reluctantly grabs the final pokeball from around her belt. Unfortunately for the redhead, the sound of haughty laughter fills the Lavaridge gym as a prideful teen praises his powerful Swampert for another KO.

“Even with a Charmeleon and Combustken on your roster…you’re still not even a threat against a skilled opponent. I bet Fatty Fat Flannery stuffs her mouth more than she trains her Pokémon!” sneers Ralph as he points to the gym leader’s doughy pot-belly.

Flannery icily glares at her adversary as she places a hand on her bare midsection. The redhead's forty inch stomach prominently bulges over the waistband of her blue jeans due to many late nights of snacking and strategizing. The pale flesh of her love handles glisten with sweat as the gym leader jabs a finger towards her arrogant opponent.

“JUST SHUT THE HELL UP! EVERYONE KNOWS HOW EASY IT IS TO COUNTERPICK A FIRE TYPE!” barks the redhead while her belly jiggles with frustration.

“And that’s why all Fire types and all Fire users suck,” snickers the boy as he spits on the ground.

“I’m gonna make you eat those words, Ralph! You’re not gonna get away with disrespecting my family and our choice of Pokémon! Come on out Aridgant!” yells Flannery as she grabs the pokeball containing her last chance at victory.

“Oh please listen to me, Aridgant. ”

Immediately after throwing her pokeball onto the ground, a flash of light fills the Lavaridge gym as Flannery’s newest Pokémon makes his 4^th appearance.

“Aridgant! Gant, Gant, Gant!” haughtily laughs a thorn-covered Liligant with a gigantic blue flower on his head. 

***

Aridgant – The Narcissistic Pokémon.
Type: Grass/Fire
Height: 4’00
Weight: 62 lbs (variable)
Signature Move: Megalomaniac (next attack is massively buffed.)

A wild Aridgant can often be found near the edge of an oasis spring; admiring his reflection for nearly the entire day. This desert beauty incinerates anything that comes nearby, and he must gorge himself on spring water in order to keep the flower on his head from withering away. However, once this Pokémon drains the spring, he is often a blueberry due to vanity and gluttony. But Aridgant cries only because he is unable to see his reflection in the now empty pool.

***

“Arid…gant,” says the snobbish Pokémon as he flippantly shoos Swampert away with his leafy hand.

“Aridgant I’m counting on you! Let’s show this asshole what we’re made of! I know that type loyalty isn’t a weakness! ” Flannery replies while proudly puffing out her voluptuous chest.

“As if you’re ever going to beat me, fat-ass! Hey Swampert, use Dig on Aridgant!”  Ralph barks.

All of a sudden, Swampert tunnels into the earth and disappears from sight.

“Ok Aridgant, use Megalomaniac!” Flannery commands.

Aridgant then haughtily puffs out his chest and releases a prideful, squeaky laugh. The Liligant-lookalike glows bright red while his body size increases in mass from 4’00 to 25 feet (about the size of an onyx).

All of a sudden, Swampert emerges a few meters away from where Aridgant is standing. However, the mudfish Pokémon is completely startled at Aridgant’s new size. He halts his assault and quickly retreats to the other side of the arena, far from the massive plant.

“Now crush that mudfish with a supersized Power Whip!” shouts Flannery towards her giant Pokémon.

However, the ego-boosted Aridgant has once again achieved a god complex due to his new size. The Fire Flower wickedly laughs while raising his blazing foot into the air. Swampert and Ralph are paralyzed with fear as Aridgant refuses to obey the commands of Flannery.

“Aridgant! Arid!…gant.” (Kneel before me! Worship me ants! I command it!)

“NO ARIDGANT! FIRE DOESN’T WORK ON SWAMPERT! WE NEED TO USE GRASS TYPE MOVES!” shouts Flannery in horror.

A giant pillar of intense blue flame then crushes Swampert from above as if he was nothing more than a tiny insect. But after a few seconds of haughty sneering, Aridgant then shrinks to his original size as an enraged Swampert emerges from the plant’s enormous footprint.


***

It’s nearly midnight, and once again, Flannery is in her simple kitchen—alone and frustrated. The heavyset redhead is currently cramming a piece of chocolate pie into her mouth as tears roll down her plump cheeks. The gym leader’s rotund belly is engorged with junk food and her black t-shirt is stained with small crumbs. Unfortunately for the ruby-eyed girl, today ended in humiliating defeat. Aridgant was knocked out once Ralph’s Swampert used a super effective Stone’s Edge to stop the conceited plant from laughing.

However, Flannery quickly pulls herself together and resumes working on her strategy for tomorrow’s double battle tournament on Mt.Chimney.

“Maybe seeing Combustken in action will inspire Aridgant to become more serious in combat…”

The redhead then snatches another slice of pie from off the table as she glares at a picture of her grandfather on the nearby windowsill.

“How the hell do you expect me to beat people who completely counterpick all that I have?  Even the “gift” your friend sent me doesn’t even make a damn difference!” Flannery barks.

But as expected, there is no reply. The woman merely hangs her head in frustration as she contemplates Ralph’s words from earlier.

“Thanks for the Lavaridge badge toots. But hey, since I’m a nice guy, I’m gonna give you some advice. Just quit the whole “fire type only” charade. You’re never gonna win against a competent opponent unless you get type diversity. The era of single-type trainers is over, baby-doll.”

“Maybe that asshole is right,” groans Flannery while seizing the nearby milk jug.

 The woman’s fireball patterned pajama bottoms grow tighter and tighter as the redhead washes down her large slice of pie with calorie-laden chocolate milk. The gym leader’s corpulent belly soon begins to make a sloshing sound as her black t-shirt rides further up her midsection.

However, the distinct sound of arguing voices outside quickly catches Flannery’s attention.

“Aridgant!” (Good day brute, I’m talking to you because I demand your friendship. You should feel highly honored that I’m even acknowledging a low-life such as yourself!”

“Combustken..” (You demand my friendship yet you haven’t earned my respect, Farewell.)

“A-Arid! Arid! ARID!” (W-wait cretin, I command you to be my friend! I forbid you to leave! I DEMAND YOU TO STAY AND CHAT WITH ME!”

Combustken…” (Why don’t you stare at your reflection and talk to yourself as usual? I do not wish to be your friend. But if you continue to pester me, then I will physically harm you. )

Eventually, Flannery hears the sound of a high-pitched shriek and the thud of a powerful kick. The overweight Fire-trainer immediately halts her late night binge and rushes out the kitchen door and into the darkness of night.

***

The next day at the double battle tournament on Mt. Chimney…

***

“ARIDGANT YOU NEED TO FIGHT! CHARMELEON CAN’T PROTECT YOU FOREVER!”  Flannery screams in frustration.

“Aridgant.” (I absolutely refuse to assist Charmeleon. He ignored me when I demanded him to give me a massage yesterday.)

“ARIDGANT STOP BEING SO DAMN SELFISH!” cries Flannery as her sweaty gut jiggles from yelling.

The current situation couldn’t be any worse for the Lavaridge gym leader. Aridgant is pompously sitting on a nearby rock with his arms folded and legs crossed. However, he hasn’t taken a single scratch of damage for the entire tournament.  Instead, Aridgant has been shielded from harm by Flannery’s tough-as-nails Charmeleon and the rest of her team.

In the current battle, Charmeleon defeated a Polywrath and still had enough juice to take on the opponent’s Blastoise. But unfortunately, after tanking numerous water based attacks, Charmeleon is barely hanging on.

“BLASTOISE USE HYDRO PUMP ON ARIDGANT! WE CAN’T KEEP WASTING RESOURCES ON CHARMELEON! ” commands a blonde girl towards her turtle Pokémon.

Blastoise obediently replies with a silent head nod. The blue tortoise aims its silver cannons at Aridgant and fires a pressurized stream of water towards the conceited flower. However, Charmeleon bull rushes in front of Aridgant and stonewalls the powerful jet.

The lizard smirks as if the water doesn’t affect him. Charmeleon is soaked yet still appears fresh for the fight. But in response to Charmeleon taking the hit, Aridgant haughtily taunts Blastoise from afar.

“Gant! Gant! Gant!” (Oh heavens! You are quite the jester!”)

But suddenly, Charmeleon collapses to his knees. He can’t keep up the façade of invincibility any longer. But for a fraction of a second, Aridgant looks worried. However, the fire flower then snobbishly upturns his face and looks away from Charmeleon. Why should he care about such a low life?

“Char…meleon.” (I gotta…keep going…must…protect my friend…at all costs.”)

“BLASTOISE! CHARGE UP FOR HYDRO CANNON!”

Aridgant suddenly looks confused. Did Charmeleon just call him “friend”?

“Arid…” (How is…b-but…I don’t have any fr—)

All of a sudden, an enormous torrent of water shoots from Blastoise’s cannons.

“ARIDGANT DO SOMETHING! ANYTHING! PLEASE!” tearfully screams Flannery as she raises her hand in the air.

Without a second to spare, Aridgant leaps off the rock and stands in front of Charmeleon. Astoundingly, the cactus-based Lilligant takes the full blast of water without flinching. However, his body instantly inflates to a gigantic blueberry form due to his ability of Water Weight.
All of a sudden, laughter fills the air as spectators point at Aridgant slowly rolling away.

“ARIDGANT! ARID!" (I DEMAND SOMEONE DRAIN THIS WATER FROM MY BODY! ARE ANY OF YOU LISTENING TO ME? HEY! DON’T IGNORE MY COMMANDS YOU FEEBLE-MINDED FOOLS!”

“Well…at least he wanted to protect Charmeleon.” Flannery sighs as she drops to her knees.

“But now Aridgant can’t even move…”

“Charmeleonnnnnn.” (Gooooooooooood nighttttttttt…)

“The Red Corner is unable to battle! The Blue Corner wins!” declares the tournament referee.

***
2 weeks later…

It’s approaching eleven ‘o’ clock in the evening, and Flannery is sitting in the dining hall of the Pokémon Center with a greasy hamburger, large fries, and chocolate shake. Yet this is the fourth time she’s eaten this meal in less than a single hour. The depressed gym leader is surrounded by food wrappers and emptied plastic cups. Her 200 pound body jiggles from head to toe as the redhead reminisces on a day of losing to water Pokémon at Lavaridge gym.

“Well I don’t think we’re getting any worse.” Flannery sighs while stuffing a fistful of fries into her mouth.

All of a sudden, a leafy green hand reaches for the burger on Flannery’s plate. However, the hamburger is immediately snatched away by pale, chubby fingers.

“Hey thief! Don’t touch my hamburger! I bought you like five sodas already! Sheesh, and we both know how much Charmeleon gives you!” snaps Flannery as she shoves the fatty morsel into her mouth.

“I need this so I can actually think, Aridgant. If you didn’t know, this burger is brain food, and I definitely can’t go without it.” Flannery laughs while her 45 inch gut continues to exert pressure against her latest pair of pants.

“Aridgant...ARID!” (I claimed that cut of meat for my own consumption! HOW DARE YOU USE YOUR GRUBBY PAWS TO SNATCH IT AWAY!)

All of a sudden, the Lilligant-like “dress” that Aridgant wore visibly grew wider as the Pokémon chugged away at an enormous cup of soda. However, Flannery didn’t seem to catch it while devouring her greasy hamburger.

Lately, Flannery and Aridgant have been traveling to the 24hr Pokémon Center in Lavaridge Town for midnight snacks. It seems as if the redhead still hasn’t figured out a way to deal with the abundance of strong water-type Pokémon that keep submerging her dreams in defeat.  But the gym leader feels as if she’s close to lighting the flame of victory.

“Anyway Aridgant, I think I’m going to find a Technical Machine that teaches you Rollout or Moss Ball. It would be useful for when you’re in that blueberry state…especially Moss Ball since its grass type.” Flannery says while fattening her own figure with French Fries.

“Aridgant…(I refuse to learn those moves…they’re for lardy Pokémon. You already taught me Heat Crash and I despise it.)”  The fire flower replies while finishing another cup of soda.

(Where is my faithful Charmeleon when I need him? This cup is empty and my favorite lizard is always happy to bring me a refill!)

Aridgant quickly tries to wiggle his Lilligant-like lower half out of the small booth; but he seems to be stuck. Amusingly, it looks as if the kindness of a certain fire lizard has softened someone’s figure. Also, maybe Flannery needs to start going on a diet. They say a trainer’s body reflects the strength of her team.

“Oh god…this burger is so good. I’m definitely ordering another one,” moans Flannery in ecstasy as her massive love handles quiver in delight.

But all of a sudden, an alarm begins to wail through the Pokémon Center as the double doors of the dining hall suddenly smash open. Instantly, a curvaceous woman dressed in a lab uniform walks into the room while being followed by a thuggish Empoleon and a menacing Meganium. The Empoleon is carrying a large white sack on his back, stuffed with small spheres.

 “Interesting, I guess there was someone I missed after all,” yawns the buxom scientist.

“Pardon my french…but who the hell are you, lady?” Flannery grunts.

“Just a researcher and experimenter, now anywho…give me your Pokémon.” commands the scientist.”  

“Yeahhhhh sureeee…” says Flannery while getting out of the booth with Aridgant.

“Well then, I’ll just help myself. I don’t have time for games. Meganium, turn those two into balls of flab with Heavy Nectar.

“Aridgant! Arid—“ (Oh please, like you could ever get me fat—)

All of a sudden, Meganium shoots a tube shaped vine directly into the mouths of both Flannery and Aridgant. Within seconds, both of the victims feel a thick creamy substance being forced down their throats. The scientist haughtily laughs as Flannery and Aridgant try to remove the vine from between their lips…but cannot.

Flannery’s gigantic stomach rips through her clothes as her body quickly expands. Her hips and thighs become tree trunks made of jiggling flesh as her breasts become the size of beach balls. The redhead’s enormous backside becomes the width of a large writing desk as she fattens up to nearly 450 pounds.

Aridgant simply becomes a supersized blueberry at nearly 250 pounds, but he’s stuffed with dense flab, not water. He releases a high-pitched scream of anger while helplessly flailing his arms around. The Fire Flower Pokémon is trying to use Heat Crash but he’s too heavy to even move.

“WHAT THE HELL JUST HAPPENED TO ME?” Flannery barks as she tries to get up from the floor. Unfortunately for the Lavaridge Gym Leader, she’s too fat to even stand.

“It doesn’t matter what happened sweetie, but I’ll be taking the Pokéballs beneath your sea of flab. But I’m not touching that lard. Empoleon, use Magnet Pull.”

“YOU STAY THE FUCK AWAY FROM MY POKEMON!” screams Flannery.
 
“ARID! (NO! THAT CHARMELEON IS MINE! HE’S MY ONLY FRIEND!)” Aridgant cries with a waterfall of tears flowing down his cheeks.

All of a sudden, Flannery’s Pokéballs emerge from beneath her flab and levitate towards the Empoleon carrying the sack.

“The name is Venus by the way, and thanks for doing business with me. Oh and don’t worry sweetie, Heavy Nectar’s effects only last a few hours. But I’ll be long gone by then. “The beautiful scientist taunts while blowing the immobile redhead a kiss.

***

To be continued.

Ever wonder where honey comes from? Well if it isn’t obvious, honey comes from the voluptuous bouncing breasts of the Big Bee Women (BBW). The golden gift that comes from those curvaceous cuties is the sole reason why you and I can enjoy a delicious cup of honey flavored tea in the morning.

However, if I was far richer, I’d probably sweeten my tea with Ambrosia— the sacred syrup that comes from mixing the nectar of rare, exotic flowers.

Funny thing is, it was actually a drone that crafted the liquid far sweeter than honey.  But you won’t hear that fact come from the mouth of any bee-woman. Drones, aka effeminate looking male bees, are seen as mistakes, and unfortunately, they often die at birth. However, one of them survived…and went on to create the tastiest liquid in history.

***

Amber slaved for an entire year in order to create his latest jar of “honey” for the annual Bee Kingdom Honey Festival, but just like last time, no one will get to taste his nectar creation. Once again, his golden liquid is sitting in a sticky pool on the marble floor—and shards of broken glass are scattered throughout the puddle. The effeminate blonde is on his slender knees, and heavily sobbing into his palms.

“Why? I-I just…why?” chokes the most hated person in all of Bee Kingdom.

Standing directly in front of the fair-skinned maiden is a very fat brunette sporting an exaggerated hourglass shape. Her enormous Double G cup breasts can barely be contained within the black and yellow bra that supports her giant bosom. But similar to her skinny counterpart, this lady also has antennae, insect wings, yellow boots, and a striped bikini bottom that has a stringer attached to the end of it. Not surprisingly, the attire of the 250 pound woman is far larger than the uniform of her ninety-three pound underling. 

“Amber just go home, I did you a favor. No one wants to taste that crap, and I’m saving you the embarrassment of having the Queen call you out in front of the entire kingdom,” haughtily laughs the blue-eyed woman while placing her hands on her hips.

“B-but gatekeeper…I..I…just wanted one other person to try my Ambrosia…it’s good! I promise!”  whispers Amber as tears trickle from his ruby red eyes.

“Sorry kid, but all natural honey is the only thing that deserves to be served at our sacred festival. Try growing some of these and then maybe I’ll let you in through the gate as a participant.” The gatekeeper smirks while flaunting her massive melons in front of Amber’s face.

The boy with the bob haircut then strokes his completely flat chest…he knows he will never be able to possess the gift that every other woman in Bee Kingdom owns.

However, Amber will do anything not to be left out of the festival. So just like every year prior…

“Please Lisa, if you let me in, I’ll work as an unpaid honey server. I’ll go without a lunch break and I’ll even go without dinner too!” grovels Amber at the feet of the gatekeeper.

“I don’t know Amber, I’m already pretty good on staff…but maybe I would hire you if I had a little incentive.” Lisa replies as her pupils become emerald green dollar signs.

“H-how much?” Amber worriedly asks.

“One Queen Coin.”

“But t-that’s my entire pay for the week!”

“That’s the price, and it’s final. It’s not my freakin fault you’re a lowly pollinator.”

Amber then releases a weary sigh; Lisa has nearly doubled the price from last year.

“Fine, I’ll give you the money first thing tomorrow morning…”

“I’m glad we could do business Amber. Now get in there, fetch a serving tray and don’t let me hear any complaints about you. Oh and remember, no lunch and no dinner, as per our agreement.”

***

Meet Amber Yellowjacket, the sole pollinator for the entire Bee Kingdom. Each and every day at the break of dawn, Amber goes out to a field of flowers that is nearly 10 miles wide and sprinkles a bit of pollen onto each plant. The next day he comes back and collects the nectar from each flower. This nectar is what the Big Bee Women rub on their breasts in order to keep them humongous and healthy. Since Amber is around flowers for nearly 70% of his day, he knows nearly everything there is to know about the plants that keep the bee women busty.

The boy cannot make his own honey, so Amber actually consumes the nectar that the bee women use as a topical ointment. He uses it as a sweetener among other things, and by mixing the nectars of different flowers it’s possible to create various honey-like syrups.

Ambrosia is the nectar mixture of a golden rose, a white tulip, and a red daisy. Otherwise known as a mixture from three extremely rare flowers to find (and three extremely difficult flowers to take care of).

***

The Honey Festival takes place within a large decorated courtyard filled with bulging bellies, bloated breasts, and gigantic backsides. Big Bee Women arrive in swarms in order to gorge upon each other’s honey and vote upon which is the tastiest. It’s often proven true that the fattest bees produce the sweetest honey, so the participants size-up their competition by seeing how large they are in comparison to opponents.

Now honey servers are flat chested bee-women (D-cups) who produce somewhat mediocre honey. They’re usually smaller than average at around 5’3 and 150 lbs. In addition, Honey Servers don’t actually contribute to the festival with anything other than manual labor. They are looked down upon by the participants who usually stand around 5’7 or 5’8 and weigh between 200 and 350 pounds.

So with these numbers in mind, how do you think someone fares if they are 4’11 and weigh about ninety-three pounds?

“What the hell are you doing here? You can’t even make honey, you scrawny maggot!” barks a blonde bee woman carrying a fifty five inch gut.

The blonde towers above Amber by nearly ten inches. Her corpulent belly carries an aura of intimidation that causes the tiny drone to fretfully slink away while carrying a tray filled with various honey samples.

“Ewwwww who let a worm into the festival again?”  cries another BBW sporting nearly 60 inch hips. The honey-stained woman could hardly move without waddling as she went to a nearby display booth in order to gorge herself on more syrupy gold.

“Wretch.”

“Insect.”

“Scum.”

Words like these echoed through Amber’s ears as he tried to serve honey as fast and politely as he possibly could. But eventually, a bee woman sporting Double F breasts decided it would be funny to make the blonde boy spill his entire serving tray…
 
***

The whole festival goes silent. All eyes are on the effeminate boy drenched from head to toe in sticky honey. Amber sits on the floor, motionless, and his eyes are emptier than a porcelain doll’s. However, he slowly tries to get up from the off the ground but…

“HEY AMBER!”

SPLAT!

Amber is suddenly struck with a balloon filled with honey and falls back to the ground. He badly scrapes his knee against the stone ground upon impact.

“Hey, that sorta looks like fun.” Says a Bee-Woman while squeezing her gigantic left breast into a paper cup.

SPLAT!

“Why didn’t we do this earlier?”

SPLAT!

“Yeah let’s run this drone out of our festival!”

SPLAT!

Soon, the entire crowd of women are throwing cups of honey at poor Amber as he tries to runaway. The sound of cruel laughter fills the sky as the teary-eyed blonde sprints as fast as he can to get out of the place he so desperately wanted to be. But Amber swore on that day—that next year, he would get the Queen to taste his Ambrosia in front of everyone.  Oh and once she did, and enjoyed it, then Amber was sure that he would get a little kindness and respect out of his sisters.

That’s all he’s ever wanted from the beginning. But will the Queen tasting his nectar even change a thing?

“In my courtroom, there are no prosecutors and no witnesses. A jury does not exist, and I do not allow discussion or debate. In my holy domain, there is only a Judge and a Defendant. I ask a single question—nothing more and nothing less, and then declare the final verdict. I do not have time for your tearful explanations; I do not have time to shed pity or sympathy. I am Justice, and you are either innocent or guilty.”

***

Long ago, before Throne Justice existed, there once lived an angel named Principality Compassion. But despite her lowly 7th class, the angel possessed the unrivaled beauty of a 1^st class Seraphim.

Her maiden-like face held teenage youth and motherly warmth. Compassion carried an oval-shaped head—a head sporting a forehead that was slightly larger than average but adorable nonetheless. Her emerald green eyes were large and almond shaped—which was absolutely perfect for seeing the stray hint of goodness in the dark pits of the blackest soul. Her slender cheeks were pink like the color of freshly picked petunias on a warm summer day. Her lips were small, slim, and eager to be kissed...just like the hungry lips of Sleeping Beauty. Compassion also sported a cute, button-like nose, in the center of her cheerful face. The girl's mid-length bob cut carried the same rich hue as a piece of dark chocolate.

The angel’s pale-skinned body was thin like a river reed, and she was no taller than 5’3. The Principality probably weighed around 120 pounds, and she carried the pear-shaped figure of a volleyball player. Her bust was flat and Compassion’s narrow waist spread southward to reveal roundish hips and slightly padded thighs.

In other words, Compassion would’ve been a marvelous bride for Seraphim Judgment, the third highest angel in Heaven’s Hierarchy. The two were deeply in love and were nearly inseparable. However, there was one problem that plagued the relationship. Although the angelic couple nearly got away with marriage...a certain angel named Seraphim Charity exposed Compassion’s dark secret in front of the wedding crowd during the vow ritual.

Long story short, the wedding was immediately disbanded and Charity took Seraphim Judgment as her husband in the following year. From that day forward, Compassion was never the same. The lovely angel that once taught sympathy and empathy became the bitterest workaholic ice queen in all of the heavens. She toiled for centuries to increase her angelic class. Compassion avoided her peers as if they were insects; and she tossed them aside like unwanted trash. The woman decided that if she couldn’t be together with Judgment, then she would at least become an upper-class celestial so that she could attend the same meetings and events as him.

Eventually... 7^th Class Principality Compassion became 3^rd Class Throne Justice. It took about a thousand years, but now Compassion is slightly happier than before.

Just ever so slightly.

***

The Courtroom of Heaven is quieter than the tomb of a forgotten pharaoh and brighter than the glare of a shining diamond. The light pours into nearly every crevice within the chamber, and darkness cannot hide in any shadow. The four white walls are covered in numerous golden relics such as the sword Excalibur, the staff of Lucifer’s banishment, and the Shield of Divine Truth. The courtroom is completely empty except for two individuals, a brunette judge with emerald green eyes, and a beautiful giantess with squid-like tentacle legs.

The 12ft tall monster-girl has sapphire blue skin, a slender face, ruby red eyes, coal black hair, and piles of excess body fat. The Lovecraftian creature carries a globe of belly flab upon her midsection that makes her look nine months pregnant. Her corpulent stomach bulges six feet outward, and the monster-girl can’t even stroke her own navel. In addition, the woman’s voluptuous breasts are heavy and full, and the size of beach balls to be specific. Ironically, the creature’s human arms are weak and scrawny in contrast to her massively flabby frame.

The apathetic brunette sits behind the judge’s bench while dressed in a robe of white. In the woman’s left hand is a golden gavel.

“My verdict is final, you shall be locked away in the prison realm for a century as per the rules.” yawns the green-eyed judge while tapping the gavel against the bench.

“Court dismissed.”

“WHAT?? B-BUT SIR JUSTICE! THAT ISNT FAIR! THE HUMANS WERE ATTACKING US FIRST! THEY INVADED OUR LANDS!” cries the Lovecraftian monster while groveling at the foot of the judge’s bench.

“My condolences,” replies Justice while getting up from his seat.

“PLEASE YOUR HONOR! JUST HEAR ME OUT!

“No.”

“Please sir, I’m begging you. Just believe me! My people respect the Laws of Light, we always have, and we always will! We would never kill a Saint on purpose. The man accidentally got caught in our crossfire when we trying to push the raiders back.”

“I gave you the appropriate manslaughter sentence. Your crime fits that punishment.”

“ONE HUNDRED YEARS OF FORCE FEEDING?”

“That is what the law says you must pay. Please understand, that I do not make the law. I enforce it,” replies Justice without a hint of concern.

“My people will end up enslaved if I cannot lead them away from Silverset Kingdom! We are slow and not built for much fighting! We just want to live peacefully and farm our crops to sell! But human men in this country find our fat bodies pleasing and wish to capture us as sex slaves!” cries the monster-girl.

“Such actions are illegal. Men who are caught will be punished for their crimes just as you. Court Dis—” begins Justice.

“Please, just believe me this once! All I beg for is a scrap of sympathy and understanding! If I ever commit another crime again, I’ll take the prison sentence ten-times over. I prom—.”

“And once again…Compassion rears his ugly head,” moans Justice as he slaps his palm against his forehead.

The brunette judge releases a weary sigh and then slinks back down into his chair. Justice reluctantly opens the drawer of the judge’s bench and pulls out a parchment of paper with the words Pardoned written across it.

“In my courtroom, there are no prosecutors and no witnesses. A jury does not exist, and I do not allow discussion or debate. In my holy domain, there is only a Judge and a Defendant. I ask a single question—nothing more and nothing less, and then declare the final verdict. I do not have time for your tearful explanations; I do not have time to shed pity or sympathy. I am Justice, and you are either innocent or guilty. ” recites Justice within his mind.

“I practiced those lines all last night, and yet I still wrote more pardon notes than guilty sentences today.” sighs the effeminate angel.

After a moment of silence, Justice then opens his mouth again.

“Present this pardon note to the front gate Lia-Shurath. Your crimes against the Faction of Light have been excused. I wish you the best of luck in leading your people to safety.” Justice replies with small smile while handing the note to one of Lia’s tendrils.

“THANK YOU, YOUR HONOR! THANK YOU! I KNEW YOU WERE TOO PRETTY TO BE SO HEARTLESS AND CRUEL!” cries Lia-Shurath while grabbing the pardon declaration in complete bliss.

“I-I wouldn’t go that far Miss Shurath…I could just plainly see you were a good person, which is literally every ‘criminal’ who walks in here. However, I’m a vastly different individual against people I find truly guilty….”

“But if you could plainly see I was good then…” asks Lia.

“My guilty declaration rate is 17%...and the higher-ups are getting frustrated with me. I was trying to be what they wanted me to be today…but I can’t…I can’t be Throne Justice. I’ll always be Principality Compassion no matter what class I’m promoted to,” sighs Justice.

“Aww it’s ok Justice, you’re just a nice person stuck with a really crummy job,” smiles Lia.

“I’m telling you Lia, I’m not a nice person anymore…I’m just sympathetic and tender-hearted towards people who deserve it. I know the Laws of Light are hardly fair and equal. Demons always get the short end of the stick…” sighs the brunette.

All of a sudden, a blonde haired angel bursts through the front doors of the courtroom. The expression on her face is one of confusion and bewilderment.

“Throne Justice, we have a huge problem with Prisoner 84. Like literally, it’s enormous! But I swear she wasn’t in this condition yesterday! She somehow bloated up like Prisoners 55, 43, 32, 89, and 69.” exclaims the thin blonde angel.

“Prisoner 84? You mean the woman who murdered Cherubim Honor to acquire his wealth?” asks Justice.

“That’s the one!” exclaims the blonde.

“Thank you for the alert Dominion Gentleness, I’ll be sure to check on 84’s condition myself.”

***

Later that evening, the clock strikes midnight. At that time, Justice decides to hop out of bed and visit Prisoner 84 in her cell.

***

Whenever I enter the dungeons intending to feed and (potentially) kill someone...I always wear a smile on my face. I wishfully imagine that the prisoner I’m about to visit is Seraphim Charity, my superior. However, she’s better known as the bitch who murdered my wedding day. But as I walk deeper into the blackness, I envision my white skirt and clingy belly-shirt changing into a beautiful bridal gown. I picture Seraphim Judgment, dressed in his tuxedo, passionately trying to defend our forbidden love to a disgusted crowd. But as much as I wish that my wedding day had a happy ending, it does not.

However, the ending isn’t completely tragic…depending on your point of view.

While I cried alone in my preparation chamber, I heard a familiar voice confessing to be Charity’s informant. She was one of the bridesmaids—in fact, she was my one and only bridesmaid. My sister, 7th class Principality Sympathy, was the sole keeper of my secret since our parents had died. I tragically overheard she had sold me out for a promotion to 4th class Dominion.

Long story short... I invited that traitorous pig over to my house two days later for a nice dinner. But when Sympathy arrived, she asked for a slice of the wedding cake that I had on display—I told her to eat as much as she possibly could because I was getting rid of it anyway.

After I handed her a twelfth slice, Sympathy asked if I was ever going to start cooking dinner. I merely laughed while twirling the giant cake knife between my fingers.

“Oh my dearest big sister, aren’t you the person who sold out my secret for a promotion? Aren’t you the woman who kept me from marrying the love of my life? Aren’t you the bitch who despises the fact that her little brother is considered one of the most beautiful women in all of Heaven? Oh Sympathy, the only thing you’re getting served tonight is dessert.”

“Just Desserts.”

After I spoke those words, Sympathy was dead in a single slash of the soul-devouring dagger ahem “cake knife” that I stole from Heaven’s armory the previous day. 

***

The dungeon that entombs the fallen angels is darker than the blackest trench of a forgotten crypt. But the chamber radiates a sticky, bayou-like humidity, instead of a lonely chill. The rugged stone walls drip with an inky ooze of unknown origin—the substance has a slow, rhythmic, trickling sound— just like water dribbling from a faucet. The entire area has the nauseating aroma of rancid milk—foul, bubbling milk—that has sat in moist humidity for thousands of years. 

This is where the angels of high authority who refuse to repent are kept in isolation. At any time these prisoners can leave. All they need to do is merely be remorseful for the atrocious actions they committed against the holy faction. Yet the angels housed here are beyond prideful, and sickeningly arrogant. They choose to remain “fallen” by their own hand.

But all of a sudden, the splashing of liquid is heard echoing through the black corridors. The sound of bare feet leisurely strolling through puddles of oily ooze breaks the deathly silence. But that isn’t the only noise—a voice sweeter than honey begins to sing Greensleeves—the Shakespearean melody of a woman’s lust for wealth, and a man’s desire to earn her love.

Your vows, you've broken, like my heart,
Oh, why did you so enrapture me?
Now I remain in a world apart
But my heart remains in captivity.

The screech of a razor-sharp blade grinding against ancient stone pierces through the air.

I have been ready at your hand,
To grant whatever you would crave,
I have both wagered life and land,
Your love and heart for me to claim.

A mysterious light in the distance illuminates the blanket of darkness. However, it seems as if the sugar-coated voice has been spiked with a surge of sexy drunkenness.

You bitch, you slutt, you ravenous whoreeeee.
Did Honor not love thee so faithfully?
You fooled him with thy kindly faceeeee.
And sent our boss to a lonely grave.

All of a sudden, a beautiful young woman with a white purse, golden halo, and feathery wings dances into the dungeon corridor. She’s thinner than a river reed, short in height, and paler than a ghost. Her emerald green eyes are glazed over in ecstasy—almost as if she had been heavily sampling narcotics. Her toothy smile is devilish and playful, just like a wicked succubus from the underworld. The brunette’s white bellyshirt is slightly wrinkled; in addition to her matching skirt. She honestly looks more like a drug-addicted prostitute wearing an angel costume than a divine servant of light.

But the angel is not a woman. He is Justice—the effeminate judge that kindly pardoned the crimes of a Lovecraftian demon earlier today. However, in the graveyard hours of the evening, Justice unleashes his mentally unstable side. The angel uses his skills as an elite infiltrator and assassin to bypass the security locks that lead to the dungeons. 

He brings with him three items. The first item is his signature dagger named Cheesecake. The blade is a large bowie knife that radiates both Light and Darkness at the same time. It’s one of the fifteen forbidden Holy-Demonic weapons in existence. The knife has the unique ability of gaining magical strength by devouring the souls of both Angels and Demons.

The second item is The Orb of Plenty, a sapphire baseball that allows the user to summon a limitless amount of any food they desire. It is usually kept under tight security, but Justice is an extremely good safecracker. Finally, that leads us to the third item, which is actually a birthday present from Justice’s best friend, Hj’alv the gluttony demon. The Sphere of Scilari is a ruby that embeds food with a ton of highly fattening magic.

All of a sudden, Justice abruptly stops in front of an enormous prison cell simply labeled “84”. 

“Sister Honesty, did thou misseth I? Me thinks the hours since our last rendezvous trickled by ever so slothfully!” sings Justice while using the Shakespearean tongue that accompanies his nightly bouts of madness.

No reply.

“My dearest Honesty, I know thine piehole is not occupied with cake. I requireth a pleasant ‘Good Day’ unless thy wishes to anger her benevolent brother,” chuckles Justice.

“Fuck off, Freak,” grunts a voice within the cell.

“Such a foul greeting driveth a rust-coated blade through my bosom, Sister Honesty.”

“Stop calling me ‘Sister’ you insane piece of filth! I am not your equal, I am your superior, I demand you call me Seraphim Honesty,” arrogantly barks the voice.

“I shall calleth thee ‘Sister’ because I adore thee like Sympathy. Tis’ a moniker of my affection. ” smirks Justice.

“Affection? That is absolutely revolting! I would never allow a lowly 3rd class Throne to love me. The very thought of it makes me indescribably ill. I can’t believe I was even able to stomach marrying that 2nd class Cherubim, Honor. His money and gifts were the only things keeping me from becoming bed-ridden from nausea. But in the end…even I couldn’t stop myself from murdering him to end our marriage.” Honesty replies in utter disgust.

“If only Seraphim Wisdom didn’t decide to visit my home that evening…I would be free from this place and nearly as wealthy as Charity,” moans Honesty.

“I beseeched thee that if thou did not sincerely repent of thine atrocious actions, then she would receive Cheesecake upon my second coming,” scowls Justice.

“Ha! You think I feel threatened by mere cheesecake?  I shall never repent for what I did. I’ll gladly sit inside this cell for all of eternity! But I know that won’t happen because eventually, those other idiots will realize that my murderous actions were clearly justified. Those of higher rank should be allowed to take whatever they want from those of lower rank without explanation.” Haughtily laughs Honesty.

“This is thine last chance. Dost thou have no guilt for murdering one of the bravest soldiers of light in our faction? Dost thou have no sorrow or shame for marrying a man just to pillage his wealth?” asks the effeminate angel with grave seriousness.

“I have no remorse for my actions, and I never will!” laughs Honesty.

“Thou took the sacred bond of matrimony and used it for petty wickedness! Thou shalt never understand why my hatred for thee burns hotter than the furnaces of Hell! Last time, my hand was gentle like a mother while feeding thee, but tonight thou shalt suffer an aching belly that a gluttony goddess would proudly admire!” barks Justice.

“You won’t break me, pipsqueak.” 

 ***
1 hour later.

Two figures of vastly different sizes are sharing an enormous prison cell. The first is the effeminate yandere, Throne Justice. The second is a nearly 420 pound beauty chained by her hands and feet to a stony wall. The 2nd angel has jet black hair, cream colored skin, and ruby red eyes. Honesty’s cascading locks are like a waterfall of coal seeping from her scalp. Her pale skin is faultless and without blemish—it exemplifies the utter perfection of a Seraphim class angel. However, the woman had eyes like a treacherous demon despite her divine name. Honesty’s feathery wings and metallic halo are black due to her status as a fallen angel.

The disgraced Seraphim is clothed in a simple white gown that squeezes her enormous body like a wetsuit. Honesty’s gargantuan belly protrudes five feet in front of the rest of her torso. Her perfectly round stomach is like a spherical boulder of gelatinous flab. The woman’s gigantic thighs are thick, meaty, tree trunks. However, they still retain a shapely appearance despite their grand size. Honesty’s backside is wider than a writing desk, and each of her jiggling twin orbs is the size of a yoga ball. But speaking of balls, the angel’s voluptuous breasts rival the size of overinflated beach balls. 

Justice sits upon Honesty’s bulging midsection with The Orb of Plenty in his left hand and a slice of frosting-covered wedding cake in his right. A fiendish smile graces his expression as he forcefully shoves the tasty dessert into Honesty’s crème-covered mouth. 

“Me thinks Sister Honesty is regretting her decision. Her eyes telleth a story of pain.” Justice chuckles as another slice of wedding cake instantly appears in his right hand.

However, Honesty’s eyes then flare with rage as she swallows the dessert in a single gulp.

“I shall never be broken by the likes of you, you’re just too insignificant in rank and class to—“

Honesty immediately has another piece of wedding cake shoved in her mouth.

“My beloved Judgment fell for me—back when I was a mere Principality. He was first and I doth seventh, but he cared not for my lowly status.”

“Class and—” begins Honesty before more wedding cake is shoved down her throat.

“Thou shalt never truly understand— that rank and class dost not make the man,” interrupts Justice.

The mountain of wedding cake sitting inside Honesty’s stomach is causing her midsection to gurgle and squelch in agony. The fallen angel tries to caress her aching tummy but the chains clamped on her wrists hinder such movement. Justice quickly notices the expression of discomfort on Honesty’s face and then giggles.

However, the blubbery angel refused to be laughed at by a lowly 3^rd rank and thus the woman spit onto Justice’s face.

“HOW DARE YOU LAUGH AT ME YOU SCRAWNY LITTLE RAT! I COMMAND YOU TO LEARN YOUR PLACE AND RESPECT ME LIKE FUCKING ROYALTY.” Honesty screams in complete rage while her gargantuan belly quivers and jiggles uncontrollably.

Justice then shoves another slice of wedding cake into Honesty's mouth, and another, and another. Soon, the slender angel is literally cramming food into Honesty's mouth as he can. The brunette relentlessly piles the sugary slices into the fallen angel's open maw.

He shines The Sphere of Scilari onto each piece of cake, and soon Honesty grows fatter and fatter until she is literally a giantess that can barely be contained by the room. However, Honesty refuses to repent, and eventually, Justice begins to regain his sanity as the clock approaches the dark hours of the early morning. The effeminate angel realizes that his victim is literally blinded by pride and thus he stops feeding the nearly 900 pound blob.

"Tis reaching daybreak and thou hast not repented." sighs the brunette.

Justice then solemnly climbs down from Honesty’s massive gut and bows his head in submission. The fallen angel laughs as she assumes that Justice has given up on trying to make her feel guilty for murdering Honor.

“I knew you couldn’t break me,” Honesty smirks.

“I cannot force thee to repent, and I refuseth to allow someone of such atrocious pride and arrogance to stay within this dungeon. I shalt now give thee a slice of Cheesecake as our parting gift,” replies the effeminate angel in a somber tone.

Justice then pulls out the large glowing bowie knife that is holstered on his hip. He calmly walks over to Honesty and stands in front of her giant navel. However, the fallen angel still doesn’t get the picture yet.

“Cheesecake? Yuck! Do you have anything else to feed me? I’m sick and tired of eating just desserts!” whines the black-haired woman.

“I assure thee Sister Honesty...one big slice of Cheesecake is the only thing left to feed you before I bid thee farewell.” Justice chuckles while twirling the Holy-Demonic dagger between his fingers.

"A very fat soul shalt empower my blade well." muses Justice.

“WELL HURRY UP AND GIVE ME THE DAMN SLICE!” barks Honesty like an enraged Queen.

"Bon appetit!"

***

And without further delay Justice did exactly as he was told.
But unfortunately for Honesty, That particular slice of Cheesecake went straight to her waist. 

So my underling “Xanabee” (pronounced Annabee), rescued the Zelronian race from certain extinction.

Although I hate to admit it…he’s a hero.

***

On this particular afternoon in Sunnyville, Mississippi, it’s so unbearably hot that someone could fry an egg on the sidewalk. However, Sunnyville wouldn’t be Sunnyville if the summers weren’t scorchers. But it’s quite suitable weather for a modern relic of the old south. You see friend, Sunnyville is a small town frozen in time. It hasn’t changed at all since 1955.

Well that’s not entirely true I suppose.

The women of Sunnyville certainly aren’t as thin as they were back in the day. A few generations of oversized meals and clean plate mentality have evolved the girls into the porkiest females that ever waddled across the south. But Sunnyville’s male population is quite trim surprisingly. I reckon it’s because most of the men are touring in the army.

But in Sunnyville, it’s the ladies who keep the place going; not the gentlemen.

On this particular Saturday in August, it’s about two o’clock. The hellish fireball in the sky is baking the small town to a crisp, and not even flies are buzzing in the air. It’s just too hot, just too fucking hot for anything mortal to be standing in the blazing sun.

However, a skinny young woman with milky skin and coal black hair is walking down the desolate sidewalk. The girl looks to be about eighteen, maybe slightly older. She’s definitely a pretty little thing, but I think she’s a bit too fragile to actually touch. Her chest is as flat as an ironing board and her hair is cut in a bob style. She’s wearing an ice cream parlor uniform straight from the 50’s. The set includes a spotless white shirt, an obnoxious checkered skirt, and a tacky bow tie to top it all off.

The teenager is chewing on a stick of bubble gum and has an expression across her face that kindly says “I’m sorry, but I don’t give two shits right now. Please leave a message at the beep. ”

Ain’t she a charmer? Anyway, this little lady is named Xanabee Ziocatharsismagnesporidium-7. But we’re just going to call him Annabee alright?
Yes, you did read that sentence correctly; I said him. Annabee is a shape-shifting alien from the military planet of Zelron. He’s a decommissioned scout and no one on his home planet cares at all. But if the kid wasn’t such a douchebag … I’d feel somewhat sorry for him. But I don’t, and you shouldn’t either. He’s a smartass who majored in sarcasm and has a degree in being a dick.

But surprisingly, he’s done pretty well for himself on Earth. He owns a decent house and works as an afternoon bartender at Sophie’s Ice Cream Parlor. You see, since Sunnyville’s corpulent ladies think of him as a scrawny, pitiful thing, they give him fistfuls of tip money out of sympathy.

All of a sudden, Annabee passes a small health clinic while walking to work. But at that very second, a young lady wearing a pearly white sundress exits through the front door. Annabee then smacks face first into the woman’s gargantuan globe of belly fat.

Personally, I think the woman should’ve kept on walking. Everyone knows Annabee is the moodiest bitch in Sunnyville, maybe even the moodiest bitch in the world.

“Hey fat ass, how about you watch where you swing that flabby thing! Huh? Sarah Silversmith? What the fuck happened to you? Ya fatter than a Zeon Motherwor— I mean cow. Coooooooow. Yeah you’re a fucking cow. Or whatever the fuck you call a fat bitch with gigantic udders.”

I told ya he’s a charmer.

The lady in the sundress then depressively looks down at her gigantic breasts. The twin orbs of fat looked unbearably heavy and engorged with milk. But she looks far too young to be a mother. In fact, she doesn’t look much older than Annabee.

“Mercy me, it’s Annabee. Maybe I shoulda gone to church last Sunday. Devil’s obviously givin’ me a curse,” sighs the beautiful blonde as she winces in disdain.

The annoyed lady in front of Annabee isn’t a stranger; she’s actually his unfortunate neighbor. However, Sarah Silversmith used to have the body of a high school cheerleader. By that I mean tight abs, slender thighs, perky c-cup breasts, and the complete package in my opinion. But now the woman is the definition of a waddling butterball.

Honestly, I wonder why the ladies of Sunnyville refuse to exercise. Everywhere else in America, women are rabid about fitness. But in ol’ Sunnyville there’s no such thing as a gym. The women believe that being sweaty ain’t particularly ladylike. That’s probably the reason why their butts are so damn big and chunky. They sit too much for their own good.

Anyway, Sarah has a massively fat belly that looks about nine months pregnant. Her chunky hips are as wide as a bathroom sink. Her thunder thighs are two pillars of pork that won’t stop jiggling when she walks. Oh but that isn’t all of her that’s shaking! Just watch my friend! I swear someone stuffed two basketball sized orbs of jello into that sundress.

Anyway, I’m babbling about nothing. Let’s get back to our favorite bitch.

“Yeah honey muffin, I can see it clear as day.” Annabee replies while mocking Sarah’s drawl.

The skinny girl then grabs a handful of Sarah’s excess belly fat. It probably felt strange seeing a rotund belly of such flabbiness again. I guess Annabee was reminded of what he looked like when he was fertile last month. You see, Zelronians don’t have an established gender like humans. They merely cycle through seasons of fertility and infertility. A fertile Zelronian becomes a “female” and appears “fat and pregnant” but isn’t actually pregnant. But if she were to ingest any sort of foreign fluid (containing DNA), then she would immediately become pregnant with the species of the "father". However, Zelronian wombs are ultra-nutritious for offspring. In fact, a human zygote would become a nine month fetus within a single day if placed in the womb of a Zelronian. An infertile Zelronian is recognized simply as a male.

But for the one month every year that Zelronians are fertile, the females of other species are highly advised to stay away from them. The body fluid of a fertile Zelronian contains a virus that hyper-stimulates estrogen production. But strangely, all infertile Zelronians are immune to the fertility virus….

Phew…that was a mouthful of scientific stuff. I’m sorry about that. But I have to let you know that Annabee has no excuse for his behavior. He ain’t even on his peri—fertility month.

Sarah then releases a weary sigh while Annabee chews his gum and blows a beach ball sized bubble. The alien then pokes the girl’s tummy again, which causes the tub of fat to uncontrollably jiggle.

“Darlin’ I don’t know why I’m gonna do this. Hell, I haven’t shown Charlie yet! But what do you think Annabee…”

Sarah then hands Annabee a white slip of paper. The note is scribbled with various pieces of medical information. Sarah’s height of 5’6, her weight of 210 pounds, and the bolded words…

Not Pregnant.

Annabee pops his pink bubble while showing an expression of complete indifference.

“So you’re not knocked up.”

“Well for pete’s sake asshole, I know that! But I definitely have somethin’ wrong with me right? I think I may a caught a parasite or somethin’ while vacationin in Bermuda with Charlie.” frets Sarah.

Annabee blows another bubble and then quickly pops it.

“Well it sucks to be you then.”

As I said before, Annabee’s a charmer.

The alien in disguise then walks around Sarah as the blonde woman furiously stomps off in the opposite direction. But now you can clearly see that jello filled behind in motion. Sarah’s probably gonna go home and plop her big ol’ booty right on the sofa. She’ll probably fix some lemonade and have a nice snack. I hope she doesn’t eat too much though, Sarah has the wedding coming up soon and that belly is getting awfully round.

Oh that’s right; we still have to follow our little bundle of sunshine.

So Annabee walks down the road until he notices his “cellphone” vibrating in his skirt pocket. However, I know that no one on Earth has that bitch’s contact number. So it had to be the almighty Relius of Zelron, the permanently infertile military commander of the shape-shifting race.

However, Annabee and Relius are having a little spat. The two haven’t spoken to one another in about two years or so. I think both parties have a mutual understanding of “not giving a shit about the other.”

Sheesh, I think it’s pathetic. But I guess Annabee has a reason to be mad. No fertile Zelronian wants to be knocked up during her fertility cycle and then completely ignored by the father. But seriously friend, don’t feel bad at all; Zelronian pregnancies last one fucking day.

Anyway, I actually have to side with Relius on refusing to speak to Annabee.

He’s done absolutely nothing to prepare for the upcoming invasion of Earth. Over the entire scope of two years, Annabee’s spent his entire mission funding on alcohol, alcohol, alcohol, and pornography.

Well after about six minutes of phone vibrations, the bitchy Zelronian answers his cell. 

“What the fuck do you want? I’m busy.” snaps Annabee.

“Xanabee busy? You haven’t been busy since we…” answers a gruff voice

“You say one more word about that and I’m ending this call.”

“Such a feisty bitch. Anyway…”

All of a sudden, another enormously fat woman walks by Annabee. She’s a beautiful brunette wearing a blue sundress. I’m surprised to say she has the same monstrous belly as Sarah Silversmith. I wonder if the two know each other. But besides that, I must tell you that the brunette’s booty is far larger than Sarah’s behind.  

The lady seems to be plodding down the scorching sidewalk, struggling to carry her jello filled backside. Each step she takes causes the two massive orbs of fat on her derriere to uncontrollably wobble and jiggle. She pants as the sun blazes upon her pale skin. The brunette looks like she’s about to collapse from sheer exhaustion. Her reddened face is a clear sign that she can’t go on much further.

Once again, I must digress. These Sunnyville ladies need to stop sitting, those rumps are getting to damn big. There comes a point in time when everyone has to run for their life, but I doubt these hens can even jog anymore.

However, the woman then slowly turns around toward Annabee and asks him a brief question…

“You work at Sophie’s Ice Cream Parlor right?” says the brunette in a slight accent.

 Annabee rolls his eyes.

But wait a second! Annabee suddenly remembers this lady! She came in two months ago to Sophie’s with her pot bellied friends. However, the brunette was much smaller than now.

“What do you want?” mutters Annabee

“Do you still serve that delicious mystery shake?”

A monstrous roar then escapes from the brunette’s rotund belly.

“I remember it tasted like vanilla but much, much sweeter and it was green.”

But before Annabee can answer the brunette, the woman suddenly utters something else.

“Oh honey I remember you! You were the bartender gal. Wow! You’ve really slimmed down! Last time I saw you, you looked so porky!” chimes the brunette.

The brunette lady was actually correct, but calling Annabee “porky” was a vast understatement. I have to say that when our little bitch was a fertile female two months ago…she was the definition of a butterball if anything.

During the first week, Annabee’s belly became a jiggling tub of flab that lacked any trace of muscle. Her hips and thighs became so fatty that the alien could barely fit in a XL parlor skirt. Oh it was hilarious! Annabee was so timid! She was even saying “Please, Thank You, and Excuse me”! Oh how I remember the look on her pretty pale face; it was one of beautiful shame.

She was just so big, and that entire month Annabee just got fatter and fatter. The scale kept climbin’, 180, 200, 220! Oh Annabee got so porky that Sophie kept calling her piglet! Eventually, it was the ladies of Sunnyville grabbing Annabee’s bulging belly. They tugged at her love handles while saying “Darlin’ you eatin mighty well aren’t ya!”

But by the 3rd week, Annabee’s backside was gigantic. It was the fattest piece of meat that the citizens of Sunnyville had ever laid eyes upon! Just imagine two orbs of jello the size of beach balls, and that was Annabee’s ass. Oh but the Zelronian begged the ladies to stop smacking her derriere in public and grabbing on to it. But since fertile Zelronians have no powers, all she could do was kindly ask them to stop!

But the ladies of Sunnyville actually harassed Annabee even more after that. However, Annabee was comfort eating with junk food by week three. So this only made the fat pile on twice as fast!

However, week number four was by far the best. Annabee tipped the scale at 275 pounds and was so fertile that if semen had touched her skin, then she would’ve been knocked up without question. Her EE breasts were engorged with milk, and her belly was the size of a large pumpkin. Annabee was so self conscious and timid by this point that she had started carrying a little teddy bear around town to talk to. The toy’s name was Mr. Bear and Annabee confided in it as her best friend.

I have to admit it was priceless seeing Annabee like this.  Her body was literally an advertisement that read “I’m a big fat baby-machine! Please insert your peg into slot A and enjoy the show! But act fast, because this deal won’t last long!”

However, all good things must come to an end unfortunately. I remember on the sad morning of July 1^st, Annabee was back to normal. The women of Sunnyville were completely awe-struck at how the alien lost 170 pounds of fat in a single night.

Sheesh! I’m sorry for getting so off track! It’s just that seeing Annabee so helpless, so afraid, and so pitifully timid was beautiful! But anyway, back to the present…

“Hello?” asks the brunette while the alien is in entranced. (Remember, before I sidetracked, Annabee and the brunette were talking about the mystery flavor of ice cream)

Suddenly, Annabee’s eyes become wider than dinner plates. That mystery flavor wasn’t ice cream at all! It was her (but now his) morning sickness from being fertile. He barfed in the milkshake mixer when he couldn’t find the bathroom key. The alien was going to clean it out later. But Annabee decided it was much easier to tell all the customers that a free milkshake flavor was being served for the next few days while Sophie was on vacation.

“Oh shit…I remember serving Sarah that milkshake too. Fuck! Did I infect this entire town of bitches?”

“Xanabee? Xanbee? THIS IS A DAMN EMERGENCY! DON’T YOU IGNORE ME!” screams Relius from Annabee’s cell.

Suddenly, the brunette blushes in embarrassment.

“Oh you must be on the phone with someone important! I’m sorry to interrupt! I’ll just leave you alone!” says the brunette while she quickly turns around and continues her journey toward Sophie’s Ice Cream Parlor.

 Annabee then turns his attention back to Relius.

“I’m listening,” sighs the Zelronian Scout.

“Xanabee, now pay attention! Due to a galaxy wide radioactive strike by the Kreon’s… none of the Zelronians in the Andromodex galaxy have a working fertility gene.”

A long pause fills the air. Annabee then chews some bubblegum and blows a bubble.

“And that’s my problem because?”

“XANABEE! YOUR WORTHLESS ASS IS THE ONLY ZELRONIAN NOT IN THE ANDROMODEX GALAXY! SO YOU’RE THE ONLY FUCKING PERSON IN OUR RACE WHO HAS THE ABILITY TO REPRODUCE!” screams Relius.

“Well, sucks to be you,” replies Annabee

“DAMN IT XANABEE! WHAT IS IT GONNA TAKE FOR YOU TO FUCKING COOPERATE!”

“I don’t see why I have to cooperate. I mean I’m not fertile anymore…that was two months ago.”

All of a sudden, Annabee hears a deep sigh over the other line. It’s a sigh of defeat but not anger. Annabee is quite surprised; Relius should have been screaming his lungs out by now.

“I guess there’s no hope…is there Xanabee? If you're not fertile...then I can't replicate that gene for us to use. By the time your fertile again, our immune systems will be used to not having a fertility gene and will attack the implanted gene. ”

Annabee then rolls his eyes. The alien’s expression is one of “Seriously? Why the hell am I doing this?”

“Commander Relius, so I unintentionally infected an entire town of Earth Women with the Zelronian fertility virus. If you guys came and abducted them from my location…would all of your problems be solved?”

“You did what?”

“Answer me, Commander.”

“Well Xanabee, yes and no. Since Zelronian wombs are ultra-nutritious our eggs can survive in them. Those infected with the fertility virus only have about a 15% chance of carrying our embryos to full term,” sighs Relius over the phone.

“Is there anyway to improve that chance?”

“Well I suppose if they were enormously fat our test-tube eggs could have a chance…”

“Relius…you know how fertile Zelronians have to take that metabolism inhibitor pill? Could you send…” begins Annabee.

“Xanabee, if what you said is true about infecting an entire town of Earth women…anything you require will be teleported to you without question.”

“Good, cause I’m gonna need a lot of those little pills.”

Prologue: [link]

***
“Do not degrade your daughter by making her a prostitute, or the land will turn to prostitution and be filled with wickedness.” (Leviticus 19:29)

***

The windowless bedroom is darker than the undiscovered crypt of a forgotten pharaoh. It’s quieter than a dusty corpse slumbering within a cozy coffin. But the small chamber is not as warm and comfy; it shares the same drafty chill as an attic in need of repair. However, the pitter-patter of bare feet stumbling across a wooden floor breaks the silence. Anxious, and nearly asthmatic breathing, can be heard within the pitch black bedroom. The atmosphere has the same intensity as an unarmed soldier walking through enemy territory. Heart racing, sweat soaking, and pulse pounding.

But suddenly, the screech of a phonograph needle striking a disc fills the air.
A jazzy melody with a trombone lead and a sexy, sugar-coated voice begins to bounce off the four walls.

Of all the girls I've known and I've known some
Until I first met you I was lonesome
And when you came in sight, dear, my heart grew light
And this old world seemed new to me!

A white beam of spotlight blasts from the ceiling and pierces through the blanket of darkness. Its blinding ray shines upon the naked figure of a young maiden. Elizabeth Comstock is the star, and the main attraction for tonight. The pale brunette then immediately shields her full, voluptuous breasts—with slender, twig-like arms. She closes her eyes tightly, like a frightened child on a roller coaster ride. Elizabeth’s nipples are firm and erect—but only due to the chilly temperature of her bedroom.

You're really swell, I have to admit you
I like ya curves! They really fit you!
I’ve been possessed, and I must confess!
When you shake those hips at me!

Your turn!

Her sapphire eyes are rapidly darting back and forth; Elizabeth carries the frozen expression of a circus animal with absolute stage fright. Cold sweat drips from her brow as she shivers in the glaring spotlight. Her hourglass frame glistens in slick moisture. However, Elizabeth barely coughs out…

“Bei mir bist du schön, p-please let me explain…"

The jazzy ensemble continues as Elizabeth falls silent beneath the lively music. But after a couple of short seconds…

“Bei mir bist du schön! Well it meansssssss you’re the sexiest in the landdddddddddddddddddddddd.”

All of a sudden, another spotlight blasts from the ceiling and onto a blonde girl dressed from head to toe in a skintight playboy bunny outfit. The erotic costume sparkles like a starry sky, and it hugs her slender body and flat bust. The showgirl is playfully singing while swaying her hips like a skilled Arabian dancer. She then strokes the magician’s hat on her head while suggestively dancing toward Elizabeth. The second spotlight follows the temptress until the beam merges with Elizabeth’s.

Seventeen year old Hailey Chardonnay then bends over and loudly giggles in delight. She immediately tickles her bunny tail against Elizabeth’s exposed womanhood—which causes the sensitive brunette to leap back in surprise. The bunny-eared seductress then blows a passionate kiss into the inky darkness.

“So are you fellas enjoying our secret midnight show?” Hailey playfully teases.

Without any warning, an unseen eruption of male approval roars across Elizabeth’s bedroom. The source of noise is coming from behind the brunette’s Victorian style mirror.

“Now settle down fellas! Don’t be too loud! Lizzy Liz is a Nervous Nancy!” Hailey replies while winking into the enormous looking glass.

***

“The first day Hailey replaced Rosie and Robert as Elizabeth’s primary caretaker— was the first day I started loving my job. I don’t know how we got the trap. But I don’t question God’s blessings, especially when I learn that they’ll never age. ” - Steve Smith, Researcher,

***

Chardonnay then stands upright and begins circling his “pupil” like a playful cat cornering an injured mouse.

“So since everyone knows about little ol’ me, I’m gonna introduce Lizzy Liz!” giggles Hailey.

“Say hi to all your fans Lizzy!”

Elizabeth remains completely silent with her arms tightly crossed. Her slender cheeks are the same color as a freshly picked apple.

“BE MY WIFE, HAILEY!” suddenly yells a male voice from out of nowhere.

“NO MARRY ME! JIM HAS A SHITTY HOUSE AND A KIDDIE PENIS!” barks another.

“Boys I’m flattered, I really am! But tonight is all about my student, Lizzy Liz, and her two friends. So quiet down and let me introduce them!”

All of a sudden, Hailey walks behind Elizabeth and rips her arms away from the pair of cantaloupe sized breasts she was trying to hide. The jiggling orbs then pop out into the broad spotlight. A flash of horror spreads across Elizabeth’s face as she hears wild cheering from the unseen crowd. The men were screaming the names of Hailey and Elizabeth as if they were top-class celebrities.

“My wife has a kid and her tits aren’t that huge!”

“HOLY SHIT! ARE THOSE FUCKING REAL?”

“COMSTOCK GENES! COMSTOCK GENES!”

“Hailey stop it! Get your hands off me! I don’t wanna do this anymore! What the hell was I thinking listening to you! ” Elizabeth furiously shouts as she struggles against the trap.

However, two curvaceous green phantoms appear out of thin air and aid Hailey in pinning Elizabeth. Then the trap releases his grip and circles back in front of Elizabeth. The effeminate boy then teasingly grabs Elizabeth’s right nipple and lifts her heavy bag of flesh into the air.

“So fellas! What do you think about Lizzy’s friends, Mr. and Mrs. Double D?”

The unseen mob releases a mighty roar of approval.

The ashamed young woman can feel every pair of eyes ogling over her naked body. The shameless scientists were already fantasizing about spreading her voluptuous frame out on a mattress—and deflowering her garden without second thought.

“SUCK THOSE TITS! SUCK THOSE TITS! ” cheers the horny, rampant crowd, from the observation room behind Elizabeth's mirror.

“We give men what they want Elizabeth, and they’ll give us what we want.” whispers Hailey in an unnaturally stern tone.

"You wanted that new Physics book...so earn it darling."

“NO! GET THE HELL AWAY FROM ME HAILEY! IM BETTER THAN THIS!  IM NOT GOING TO BE A WIND-UP DOLL FOR THESE FREAKS!!” barks the brunette while she madly flails back and forth against her phantom captors.

“Fine…be a stubborn Sally. I’ll just have to finish this show myself.  So take a nap Lizzy…you’ll be fine in the morning …just breathe in and relax.” replies Hailey as he lifts his hand into the air.

A green cloud of mist suddenly appears from his small palm.

“With a just a whisper, you’re all mine…” sings the effeminate boy like a lullaby.

“Hail…I will…be…free….”


***

“Aww Lizzy liz, don’t cry! Don’t cry honey, there’s nothing to be ashamed about. But I had to show you the truth! You needed to learn that hundreds of men are watching you! But that’s a great thing, dearie! If you give these gentlemen what they want—then they’ll give you what you want in return. So instead of moping about freedom, let me teach you how to get everything your heart could possible desire. ” - Hailey Chardonnay, April , 1912.

“Since the beginning of time, women have been seen as nothing more than a tool for sex and a body for producing male heirs. But things are finally starting to change! I can actually be somebody! I can have hopes and dreams beyond a kitchen…if I ever get out here of course! But my new caretaker ironically holds the same ideals that keep my gender oppressed. This is despite the fact he is treated just like a female.” — Elizabeth Comstock, April, 1912.

***

In the darkness, only the items illuminated by the white-hot spotlight existed. But due to the ceiling bulbs suddenly flickering on—we can now see Elizabeth’s entire bedroom in full detail. The place is quite modest in décor, and rather childlike. There are colorful drawings of a winged beast hung on the red walls. In the far corner is an antique bookshelf, accompanied by an easel (one specifically holding a beautiful painting of the Eiffel Tower). But among other things, there’s a pile of lockpicks, a crowbar, and an encyclopedia called The Patriot’s Cookbook: Easy-to-make Homemade Explosives.

However, it’s nearly one ‘o’ clock in the afternoon. But two sleeping figures are drunkenly sprawled across a messy, Queen sized bed. The first figure is none other than Hailey, and he’s still dressed in his playboy bunny suit. The effeminate teen is cutely sucking his thumb while haphazardly stretched out on the white mattress. His petit body is radiating with a ghostly green aura for some reason.

 The second sprawled figure looks like Elizabeth…but with the well-fed curves of a Roman fertility goddess. Her soft hips are plump and rounded like the rolling hills of the Shire. Her porky thighs are two pillars of thick, shapely meat. In fact, her juicy thighs have a greater circumference than Hailey’s waistline! Elizabeth’s perky breasts somehow grew from the size of cantaloupes and are now the size of small volleyballs. The girl’s derriere is now fat and hefty—almost as if someone stuffed her rear with two basketballs made of jello. Finally, Elizabeth had put on a pot belly. She carries the type of doughy midsection that someone receives from drinking a bit too much and not exercising enough. It’s a mid-sized belly that a person can’t fully suck in and visibly jiggles when briskly walking.

All of a sudden, the voluptuous woman sleepily raises her meaty left arm into the air and wraps it around Hailey’s tiny frame. The girl then reels him in as if he were a stuffed animal. The two bedmates then begin obliviously spooning each other.

“Robbie Rob…you dirty boy,” dreamily replies Hailey while backing his body into Elizabeth’s plump cleavage.

“Sir Lancelot…” mumbles Elizabeth in her sleep.

However, Hailey quickly remembers that Robert Lutece doesn’t have breasts—and Elizabeth is certain that Lancelot would never wear a cotton bunny tail…

“…”

“…”

Two pairs of eyes suddenly snap open.

“WHAT THE HELL ARE YOU DOING?” two voices cry in unison while thrusting away from each other.

Hailey immediately covers his flat, boobless chest, with bedsheets. Elizabeth does the same while occupying the opposite side of the mattress.

“OH MY GOD! I THINK I WAS JUST RAPED BY A VIRGIN!” shrieks Hailey.

“I WOULD NEVER HAVE SEX WITH YOU! YOU’RE NOT EVEN A MAN!”

Elizabeth’s eyes then become as wide as dinner plates. She remembered that even though Hailey looked like a girl…

“OH HELL! YOU ARE A MAN! DID WE SERIOUSLY????”

BOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOM!

An earth shattering tremor suddenly knocks Hailey and Elizabeth off the mattress. The two moan in agony as they each land face first on the hardwood floor. Then without warning, a steamy whistling tune suddenly fills the air. However,…

BOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOM!

Another tremor rattles Hailey and Elizabeth.

Suddenly, a panicking male voice can be heard over an unseen intercom.

“O-Ok I know I shouldn’t be talking to you…but but—THE BIRD ELIZABETH! GET TO THE LIBRARY AND VISIT THAT DAMN THING BEFORE IT TEARS THIS WHOLE TOWER APART!”

“Honey…I can’t deal with this shit right now.” mutters Hailey.

The effeminate trap then tumbles forward, performs a front handspring, and seamlessly chains that into a backwards cartwheel. After the quick display of acrobatics he ends up at Elizabeth’s closet. While the plump brunette is shocked by the perfect execution of gymnastics, Hailey rips open the closet door and pulls out a white bra and white panties. He immediately hurls the garments at Elizabeth.

“You heard the man! Throw this on and get to the library!” barks Hailey.

Elizabeth catches the white bra in midair and quickly slings it around her bigger, rounder, and fleshier breasts. However, her new bosom seems to be incompatible with her old bra.

“Come on girl! Just fasten the thing already and put on your panties!”

“WHAT DO YOU THINK I’M TRYING TO DO?” yells Elizabeth in frustration.

BOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOM!

Books start falling off the shelves, furniture begins tipping over, and the lights begin flickering on and off.

“OH MY GOD! I’M GOING TO DIE BECAUSE YOU CAN’T—“

BOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOM!

“THE BIRD ELIZABETH! GET TO THE GODDAMN BIRD!” screams a voice over the intercom.

“FOR CRYING OUT LOUD MY BRA WON’T FASTEN!”

BOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOM!

“THAT’S IT! MOMMY IS GETTING A NEW FUCKING CANARY!” exclaims Hailey as his body becomes surrounded by a ghostly green aura.

***

“When Hailey vanished into thin air, so many questions were blaring in my mind. What the hell happened last night after I blanked out? Why the hell isn’t my…wait a second…is that ME in the mirror? N-No…that-that can’t be! I was never this fat in my life! I look like I weigh 170 pounds or something! I’m a complete butterball!  Wait a second…WHY ON EARTH AM I MAKING A VOXOPHONE RECORDING AT A TIME LIKE THIS?” – Elizabeth Comstock, April, 1912.